


Cold Hands, Warm Heart

by ddagent



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Autumn, F/M, Friendship, Pre-Series, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 14:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2511506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She would keep him warm when he couldn’t [or, five times Melinda helped Phil keep warm].</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Hands, Warm Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Agents of SHIELD or any of its characters, or settings - all belongs to Marvel and ABC.
> 
> This was written for the Philinda October Challenge. It's very, *very* late and for that I do apologise. My prompt was 'scarves and leather gloves' which I've sort of covered in the story. This story went in so many different directions, I had to cut half of the fic out just to make it workable. So I apologise if its, well, rubbish. Happy Autumn everybody!

“Okay, I’m gonna go get some coffee.”

Phil stood up and smiled at his partner before he headed over to the coffee vendor in the corner of the park. Their current mission was nothing more than surveillance, observing any deals that their current target made amongst the wilting autumn trees. So far they hadn’t seen much of him. They’d seen more small children stomping on sodden leaves and families carrying home pumpkins to carve. Maybe if they stuck around in Portland till the end of the month, Phil could persuade Melinda to carve a pumpkin with him.

 

As he joined the queue for coffee, Phil felt his eyes stray once more to his partner. She looked, quite frankly, adorable in her jet black coat with the woollen hat her grandmother had knitted tucked on top of her head. Autumn was full of colours, and he liked the colour it created in Melinda. Pink tinged cheeks, bright eyes. He just wanted to press his lips to the curve of her jaw, watch more colour bloom.

 

“What can I get you?”

 

“Two coffees please.”

 

Phil had seen Melinda knock down men twice her size, scale a building on a regular basis. He’d seen her soaking wet and in dresses that would put most models to shame. Yet it was in a park in Oregon that he really found himself attracted to her. It was just so _normal_. They weren’t spying, they weren’t on dangerous operations. They could be just two college kids spending the afternoon in the park, enjoying the season as it passed.

 

“Here you go.”

 

He paid the vendor and took both cups. His fingers grasped the Styrofoam gratefully, happy for the warmth through his thinning gloves. Although he loved the season, the biting wind seemed to creep into every inch of a person. Phil began the short walk back to the only dry bench where his partner sat, huddled over in the chill.

 

Smiling as he reached her, Phil handed Melinda one of the cups. “Here. This should keep us going.”

 

“Thank you. I think the temperature’s dropped another three degrees since we left the safe house.”

 

Phil nodded, sitting as far away from damp wood as he could get without giving his partner a lap dance. He didn’t fancy a wet ass to join his already puddle soaked slacks. “Hopefully our guy will come before it gets dark. The coffee vendor closes at five. Wouldn’t want to be out here without something hot to drink.”

 

Raising his cup for emphasis, Phil took a long drag of his coffee; relishing the rush of warmth as it spread down his throat. Phil turned to Melinda, hoping to see similar satisfaction on her face, or at least those full lips of hers in colour. Instead he watched her take a sip, her nose then wrinkling in distaste as she glared threateningly at the Styrofoam container.

 

“This is coffee.”

 

Phil stared as his partner blankly before the caffeine lubricated the wheels in his mind. His order hadn’t even registered; he’d been so focussed on her. On getting her warm. Melinda observed the weather, never complained, but he could see the hue her fingernails were slowly turning. Fingerless gloves were a necessity for a Specialist, but they weren’t exactly good for circulation.

 

“I’m sorry, Melinda, I didn’t even think. One cup of tea, coming straight up.” Phil was halfway standing when he felt Melinda’s cold fingers wrap around his wrist. He turned and found her glare was now squarely aimed at him. He was going to end up with that coffee on his head, wasn’t he? “Melinda, I…”

 

“It’s getting colder every second, we need to get warm. Your gloves are worse than mine.” With her free hand, Melinda took another sip of her coffee, still wincing at the taste. “It’s fine. Now sit.”

 

Phil didn’t have to be told twice. He sat beside Melinda, cupping his own delicious cup of coffee. Whilst his partner scanned the park for their target; he kept watching her, trying not to chuckle whenever her face curled up at the taste of her cup. She did look warmer. Colour had begun to bloom in her cheeks, just like the slew of autumn leaves caught under their feet. He really was tempted to bury his face in the gap between her neck and her scarf, but he thought better of it.

 

“Next time, I’ll make sure to get you a cup of tea.”

_\--_

“Phil, open up! I brought soup!”

 

Melinda supposed she could have picked the lock to Phil’s apartment, but after the shower incident two months after he’d moved in she’d decided on a different course of action. She heard stumbling inside, Phil fumbling with the catch for the door. Suddenly it was open and she was graced with her best friend looking like he’d just escaped out of the nearest graveyard.  

 

“Did you make it?” Phil asked, his eyes narrowing at the container in her hands with as much distrust as he could manage.

 

“You can’t be that sick if you’re making jokes,” Melinda chastised, watching a glimmer of a smile flicker on his face. “Don’t worry. I picked it up from that deli you like on Third. They hope you get better soon. Now let me in and let me take care of you.”

 

Phil opened his mouth, the protest ready, but Melinda gently pushed past her friend and into his apartment. She wasn’t about to let him hide away in his apartment, steadily getting worse without anyone to take care of him. Judging from the state of his apartment, it was a good job she’d stopped by. Normally Phil was fairly neat, but nearly every surface was covered in used tissues and empty boxes of Pop Tarts.

 

“You didn’t need to come, I’m fine.”

 

Her best friend sat down on the sofa, curling up into himself. Phil was always slight, inconspicuous. That was part of his charm. But here he was too pale. Too sick. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Here, let me tidy up and you can read the new issue of…whatever comic book I picked up.”

 

With a light hand pressed against his chest, Melinda eased Phil back against the sofa. She fished out the three issues she had bought on her way over and left them with him whilst she tried to clean up the place. Germs tended to stick around, the whole apartment needed to be decontaminated. She started with collecting the tissues and dirty laundry, then throwing open all the windows to get some air circulating.

 

Slipping into Phil’s bedroom, Melinda picked up a fresh set of pyjamas and a couple of extra blankets. She smiled as she found the t-shirt of his that she had worn whenever she slept over in his dorm room. She wondered if he ever wore it now. He never used to at the Academy. She’d claimed it.

 

“Here are some fresh clothes,” Melinda said as she dropped off the stack of fresh laundry in the living room. “I’m just gonna get you some painkillers.”

 

In the bathroom, Melinda picked up the packet she needed and quickly checked Phil’s boiler. The thing looked older than her. She gave it four months, maybe three before it died. When she returned to the living room, Phil was struggling to get into a fresh Captain America t-shirt.

 

“Here, let me help.”

 

Melinda rolled down the hem of the t-shirt, her fingers grazing his damp skin.  Helping Phil back against the pillows, she checked her hand against his forehead like her mother had done to her as a child. Still too warm, still too clammy. “I’m going to heat up the soup now, so you can eat something other than strawberry Pop Tarts.”

 

Phil nodded, sagging against the sofa. “Okay. I have crackers…”

 

“I know where your crackers are,” Melinda chastised. “You focus on getting better, okay?”

 

He swallowed; that glimmer of a smile back on his face. “Okay. I guess you need me back on the job.”

 

“Of course. They’re making me supervise some of the cadets. So get better already.”

 

Maybe in his flu filled haze he would actually believe that. It was easier to say, certainly. Whilst they were best friends, she still had a reputation to maintain. Though her irritability at not being here quicker to take care of Phil had fooled no one. Rather than discuss her strong desire to make sure Phil was healthy and well so she could see that smile again, Melinda heated soup.

 

As soon as she returned, she felt Phil’s forehead. He had somehow become even worse in the few minutes it had taken her to get the soup ready. “Phil, you’re burning up.”

_\--_

“It’s cold. Are you cold? I’m cold.”

 

Phil shivered, blowing cold air into his cupped hands in an effort to warm them. The rooftop they were stationed on for spying on their target gave them no shelter from the blistering October wind. Not even the thick coat he’d slipped on that morning could help him find solace from the chill. He needed a warm cup of coffee and an hour under a blanket. But none of that would happen till their mission was complete.

 

“Are we nearly done yet, Melinda?”

 

His partner turned her gaze briefly from the camera lens to glare at him. The chill in the air didn’t seem to affect her, it never did. He was jealous. “You checked the weather three times before we left the apartment; you knew it was going to be cold. You should have brought gloves.”

 

Phil was tempted to place one of his freezing hands on the back of Melinda’s neck just to see if she felt the cold and was being quiet about it, or was just one of those abnormal people whose body temperature was ten degrees higher than the general population. For his own safety, though, he resisted and tried to focus on warm thoughts. Like coffee and blankets and Daffy Duck cartoons with Melinda and him huddled up on the sofa together.

 

But they were still not done and he was still cold. “How many photographs do we need? Honestly?”

 

“How many pairs of gloves should you be wearing? Phil, don’t complain to me about the cold if you’re improperly dressed.”

 

He nodded, accepting the criticism as he continued to rub his hands together. He’d had a pair of gloves. They had been old and thinning, not much better than the bare hands he currently sported. They’d got misplaced on their exit from their last safe house, no doubt tucked behind a piece of furniture somewhere. It was a shame. He loved those gloves.

 

“I’ll pick up a pair soon, just haven’t got around to it yet.”

 

“You had time to go comic book shopping yesterday but not to buy gloves?”

 

Phil sighed; his gaze focused on his weathered sneakers. “I…it’s like your watch. It took you months to buy a replacement watch after the glass was cracked.” He’d never seen her look so murderous after Charleston had broken it accidentally. “The gloves were my Dad’s.”

 

The lens lay unattended once more as Melinda turned to him. “Phil, I’m sorry.”

 

It was not a subject either of them discussed, not wanting to uncover the grief that was still buried there. But there were good memories too. “They were the pair he used to wear when he’d take me sledding or off to the pumpkin patch. When he died, I kept them tucked in a drawer until I could wear them. I know I need a replacement, I just don’t want to buy one.”

 

Phil didn’t look up at Melinda until he felt her hands clasp his own. Her gloved hands were so incredibly warm against his cold skin and Phil felt that sensation wash over him. She smiled as she rubbed his hands, the painful nostalgic smile she wore every time they discussed his father or, indeed, hers. Phil watched as Melinda lifted his hands up to her mouth and blew, the warm sensation continuing to spread down his body.

 

“There. Before your teeth start chattering like a monkey.”

 

They shared a light chuckle before Melinda’s hands slipped away to attend to the camera. His hands were still warm, although the loss of contact had begun to ebb that warmth away. It seemed sensible to sit close beside Melinda and her camera, so close their shoulders and thighs were touching. She would keep him warm when he couldn’t.

 

On the way back home, with visions of coffee and cartoons running through his mind, Phil wasn’t happy when Melinda made a quick stop inside a department store. She only took five minutes and came out with a brown paper bag. She shoved it in his direction and started their walk back home. He opened the bag wordlessly, knowing exactly what he would find. The colour wasn’t important, just as long as they were warm. As long as they were special. And coming from her, they would be.

 

“You didn’t have to do this.”

_\--_

“Of course I had to; you weren’t going to sort it.”

 

Melinda continued to work on Phil’s boiler as he stood, gaping from the bathroom door. She’d hoped to have it up and running by the time he came home from the gym, but she’d miscalculated his routine and he’d caught her. At least they both had clothes this time. She could still conjure up the image of a very wet and very naked Phil Coulson if she closed her eyes and wished…not that hard.

 

“I was planning to get it done this weekend, Melinda,” Phil chastised, crossing his arms as he leant against the doorframe. He wasn’t very threatening on a good day, let alone with wet hair from the gym and pink cheeks from the wind blowing outside.

 

Melinda continued to twist the bolts she needed to jerk the boiler into working, at least for a little while. “This weekend’s not good enough. You’ve had no heating for nearly a weak now. How many pairs of socks did you sleep in last night?”

 

Phil slumped against the doorframe, eyes cast towards the floor. “Three. And the hat your grandmother knitted me. But this is a job for my landlord, Melinda. You seriously didn’t have to do this. More importantly, you didn’t have to do this when I wasn’t here.”

 

“At least you’re wearing clothes this time.”  Her best friend coughed, his eyes turning to the mould making its way into the corners of his bathroom ceiling. She’d have to get to that another time.

“Anyway, I’m nearly done. Then you’ll be able to wear your Captain America pyjamas with the appropriate amount of socks.”

 

Her tease earned her a smile. “Thank you, Melinda. I really do appreciate this. Especially as I thought you had that thing with that pilot guy this afternoon.”

 

“Oh. Yeah.” She’d forgotten about that. Clint had mentioned between sparring sessions that Phil still hadn’t fixed his boiler and she had run off to borrow the tools from Jimmy without a second thought. “This was an emergency. If you get sick because your house is improperly heated, then you’ll be benched from field operations. And because I’m your partner, I’ll be benched too.” She risked a glance from the boiler’s pipes to Phil. He wasn’t buying it. “Make yourself useful and hand me that wrench.”

 

Phil handed her the tool she requested, his lips following suit with a kiss to her cheek. He looked grateful, so very grateful that she was there. She would do anything for him. Having fixed the part she needed, the boiler began to make the correct noises. It would take a while for the water to heat, but Phil would be sleeping in a properly heated apartment tonight. He’d even get to shower somewhere other than the gym.

 

Another kiss to the curve of her cheek, but this time Phil stayed close. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

 

Melinda shrugged, relishing Phil’s laugh as they both admired the newly fixed boiler. From this distance, she could smell the apple scented body lotion he used in the shower. Phil smelt like autumn. Melinda suddenly became overwhelmed with the desire to kiss him, to see if he tasted the way he smelt. Normally she was an expert at controlling her need to slowly undress and enjoy her partner intimately, but sometimes her resolve came close to slipping.

 

The way Phil wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue suggested she wasn’t the only one. Or at least that’s what she hoped.

 

“I’ll go put on a pot of hot chocolate,” Phil announced, putting a little distance between them as he turned for the door. “Thank you, Melinda. I really appreciate this.”

 

“Not a problem,” she said, putting her tools back in her borrowed tool box. “But one of these days you’re going to have to learn how to sort out your own bathroom.”

_\--_

“I guess I’ll head to the bathroom first.”

 

With a nod of agreement from Phil, Melinda headed for the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Clutching at the sink, Melinda watched her reflection take a stream of steady breaths. This operation was already becoming incredibly difficult and they’d only been at it a day. They’d blown into town with fake wedding bands and long, _deep_ kisses that showed two people madly in love.

 

She’d survived being dumped in a bay for five hours. She wasn’t sure if she would survive this.

 

There was a knock on the door and Melinda waited just a moment before she felt she could calmly open it. “Everything okay?”

 

“Yeah, you just forgot your pyjamas.” Phil handed her a neat stack of night clothes, smiling as he half retreated out the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”

 

Her partner closed the door behind him, leaving her in the poorly lit motel bathroom alone. She’d brought two sets of pyjamas – a silk negligee more suited to her alias’ personal tastes; and a worn pair of shorts with an equally worn vest. The shorts Phil had given her were the ones she had brought with her, but the t-shirt was not. Taking it off the top of the stack, Melinda unfolded the fabric. The dark grey had faded with too many washes, the hem coming undone at the bottom. But it was perfect.

 

Slipping on the familiar t-shirt, Melinda could almost smell the apple and spice, combined with the sandalwood cologne Phil was gifted every Christmas. Taking a deep sniff of the fabric she found only the cheap softener she teased Phil for using. It brought her back to the Academy, where they would crash on his sheets and only wake when the shower rush began. It didn’t matter that she had spent all day kissing Phil, or that she still wore the gold wedding band he’d slipped on her finger during their flight to Alaska.

 

It was business as usual.

 

When Melinda stepped out of the bathroom, Phil was already shivering in his pyjamas, arranging pillows and blankets on the floor. _Ever the gentleman_. It was probably a good idea to sleep separately with all the emotions this mission was churning up. But Melinda really didn’t want him that far from her.

 

“Phil, the bed is perfectly big enough for both of us. We managed to squeeze into your bed back at the Academy after all.”

 

Her best friend chuckled, sighing as his eyes darted between the expansive double bed and his nest on the floor. “This is true. Although I still remember when you elbowed me in the face.”

 

“Are you going to let that go sometime this decade?”

 

Melinda helped Phil put the blankets and pillows back on the bed before they both crawled on top. There was no awkwardness; they both seemed to fit together naturally. She curled up on the right side, chosen from years of sleeping against walls. Phil lay on the left, his hands resting on his stomach. They would need their rest, yet when Melinda turned out the lights two pairs of bright eyes still shone.

 

“Are you okay?” Melinda asked, hoping that it was a simple issue of the bed being too lumpy rather than anything else.

 

“Yeah, I just…” She wasn’t sure if she was ready for this conversation. “I can’t believe it’s this cold. Really, it’s freezing.”

 

Her body sagged with relief. “It’s Alaska, Phil, what did you expect?”

 

Phil huddled in a spare blanket, legs kicking as he tried to get warm. She was usually a warm person, but even these temperatures were affecting her. Yet an extra blanket would warm her too much and she wouldn’t be able to sleep. So she would make do. It was amusing to watch Phil twist and turn in an effort to keep himself warm though.

 

“How are your teeth not chattering?”

 

Melinda rolled her eyes and closed the gap between her and Phil. She rested her head on his shoulder, her arm around his middle and her legs became tangled with his. They often woke like this back at the Academy. It was comfortable, familiar. She felt Phil relax as she held him, trying to share her body heat with his. Melinda smiled as she felt his hair brush against her temple.

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.”


End file.
